


For the Children

by Mayphoenix



Category: Ask-the-Odd-Family-from-Asgard, The Avengers (2012), Thorki - Fandom, Thunderfrost - Fandom
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Bipolar Disorder, Depression, M/M, Mental Illness, you know -- Loki stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-08
Updated: 2013-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-24 06:02:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/631236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mayphoenix/pseuds/Mayphoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki fears he is the greatest danger to his children.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the Children

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the ongoing tales of Ask-the-Odd-Family-from-Asgard, dealing with Loki's insecurities versus his responsibilities to his family. This particular installment (http://25.media.tumblr.com/f74111721e3de7da28b5feae3195723e/tumblr_mg8j8snPGg1r87a7po9_500.jpg) struck a deep chord in me. As someone who suffers from abandonment issues and feelings of low self-worth rooted in childhood trauma, I could identify with this Loki and his internal struggles. Mental illness can make a person question their validity, both in society and to loved ones. It is no easy task to care for someone who fights a constant battle with his mind, and no one is more aware of this than the inflicted person himself.
> 
> As always, this is dedicated to the artist and creator of ATOFoA. All my love, dear one. <3

Tony Stark, his red and gold armor gleaming in the late afternoon sunlight, looked around at the latest carnage and sighed.  His mask retreated as he turned to face the perpetrator, a certain demi-god with serious anger issues, currently pinned to a wall by the only force capable of keeping him still: a big-ass hammer purportedly forged from the heart of a dying star and wielded by the man who was brother, lover, and husband to their captive.  While they had been able to stop Loki from destroying Manhattan – how many times was this, again? – Tony could see the battle that continued to rage between the two Asgardians in the way they glared at each other.  “You know,” Tony drawled, gesturing between them, “I can’t really tell whether you guys want to kill each other right now, or fuck each other’s brains out…but can you at _least_ think of the _children_?”

Straining uselessly against Mjölnir’s unyielding weight – even when held in Thor’s strong hand – Loki ceased his struggles at Tony’s glib remark.  His sneer faded and he blinked several times.  “The children,” he echoed softly, and looked away, his mouth pulled into a tight line. 

In the days that followed, Thor had to plea with S.H.I.E.L.D. to release Loki to his custody.  “Our children cry for him,” the God of Thunder beseeched, his own voice cracking with misery.  “They do not understand why the one who gave birth to them is not at home, to hold them each night and sing them to sleep.  Please, have pity – for the children.”

Loki sat and listened to his husband during these proceedings, and again he thought of his family.  If ever he felt shame, it would be in this, in allowing his blind anger and his uncontrollable desire for mischief to overwhelm him to the point where he could abandon his children.  When it had been just him and Thor, he would hide himself away when his moods got the better of him, disappear for days or months on end, until he felt ready to come back or until Thor sought him out and dragged him home.  Which was often quite enjoyable, when he thought about it… 

But now – now they had a family.  What example did Loki set for them by throwing mindless tantrums, lashing out, and storming off to brood?  Surely, he could teach them to be gods and mighty rulers without laying waste to everything in sight.  Surely, he could show them that a good king did not take out his fury on the innocent, leading him to be feared as a result.  For to be feared is to be hated, and to be hated is to be marked for destruction.  Loki could not bear the thought of such a thing befalling his children.  He loved them so and would do anything to protect them.

Even if it meant protecting them from their emotionally-unstable mother.

Blessedly, Loki was allowed to return home with Thor.  He said nothing during the trip and Thor respected that – for a change – perhaps sensing that he needed the silence in order to reflect.  In truth, Loki felt withdrawn, sullen, his thoughts focused on his children.

Loki went to the nursery immediately.  There he found Valki on the floor, entertaining baby Ragni with a pantomime of the warrior queen who traveled the nine realms in search of her missing brothers and sister, acting out the epic with dolls and building blocks.  Upon seeing their mother standing in the doorway, Valki gasped, dropped her toys and cried out joyously.  “Mumma!”  Loki stooped, his arms open to catch her when she flew to him.  He kissed his daughter, inhaled the scent of her golden hair, and hummed.

An insistent squeal drew his attention.  Ragni, suspended in his swing, kicked his legs excitedly, his arms outstretched and pudgy fingers groping the air.  Loki smiled.  Placing Valki on her feet again, he took her hand as he swept down to kneel beside his youngest.  “My little ones,” he murmured, and stroked Ragni’s dark hair with great tenderness.  “Come – Mumma has something to give you.  Close your eyes.” 

Valki did as told; too young to understand, Ragni chewed on Rok’s beak and grinned up at his mother.  Gently, Loki cupped a hand around the back of each child’s head, and summoned his magic.  _Protect them,_ he told the swirling energy.  _Make them unaware of their mother’s rages; let them be untouched by the knowledge of chaos and destruction waged, and of the battles fought with their sire.  May they never know the hate that is directed at the one who gave them life, and may they be spared the dark sickness of the mind and spirit that poisons their matron’s cursed existence.  By the sacred roots of Yggdrasil, let their innocence be unspoiled by my deeds._

Loki ended the silent incantation with kisses to Valki’s brow and Ragni’s cheek, each touch imbued with invisible runes to seal the spell.  “All right, then,” he said, rising to his feet again.  He extracted Ragni from the swing and tucked him against a shoulder.  “I must prepare the evening meal.”

“Oh!” Valki bounced, wide-eyed.  “Can I help, Mumma?”

“Of course.  Go wash up, now, and meet me in the kitchen.” 

With a squeal, Valki raced out of the nursery.  Loki smiled at Ragni, who already had a fistful of his mother’s black hair, and gazed into the toddler’s bi-colored eyes.  He could see such deep wisdom there, even for one so young, for Ragni had inherited Loki’s gift of seiðr.  No doubt the child was aware of the magic performed upon him, even if he did not fully understand it – yet.  One day, Loki would have to explain why he placed a blinding spell upon his little ones, to keep them in the dark about their mother’s misbehavior.  “I will not be a burden to you,” he murmured to the baby.

“You’re not a burden.” 

Startled, Loki turned around to find Erik leaning in the doorway.  His eldest son stood with hands shoved deep in the front pockets of a hooded jersey pullover, quietly regarding him with cool blue eyes in a way that reminded Loki so much of Thor – not so much judging him as just trying to understand, as though Loki were some great mystery he would never solve but would always give to contemplation.  Loki’s smile faltered.  His spells would not work on Erik.  It was too late, for the boy had already seen so much, perhaps too much.  He saw Loki at his weakest.  He knew what made Loki vulnerable, what made him hurt.  Where Thor often failed out of his own frustration, Erik could reach Loki unlike any other because of his knowledge of his mother’s failings.  Maybe it was better that he never shielded Erik, that Erik should see the bitter truth, the monster who gave birth to him.  One day, he would be King of Asgard, and as such he could not be kept in the dark about such matters.  He would lead battles greater and more violent than any ever waged between his parents.  He would face bigger challenges than dealing with a temperamental mother.

"You’re not the only person who gets angry and depressed,” Erik said.  “My friend from school – you know, Teddy? – he said his dad used to be like that all the time, that some of it was due to stuff that happened to him when he was a kid, but then he went to this doctor who told him he had something called ‘Bipolar Disorder.’”  He moved his hands from his pockets and placed them behind him, against the door jamb.  “He has good days and bad days.  Just like you.  So he takes medicine and he talks to somebody about his problems.  Getting help really changed him.” 

Feeling self-conscious, Loki sniffed. “I may have the ability to shift my shape,” he said imperiously, “but I cannot remake what I am, within.”

“Nobody’s saying you have to,” Erik said, shrugging one shoulder.  “And that's not the kind of 'change' I meant.  I'm just saying maybe you need to talk to someone.  It can’t be someone you already know, either.  It’s gotta be someone who can be totally objective.  You go and talk about what happened, and how you’re always scared that nobody loves you or wants you around, and maybe…maybe it’ll make you feel better.”  He looked up at his mother, and the hope in his eyes spoke louder than his words.  “Couldn’t hurt, right?”

Loki stared at his son.  The thought of opening up to a stranger, even someone trained in the matters that plagued the mind, intimidated him.  He did not wish to appear foolish, or to expose himself to yet another who might see fit to harm him.  He would not have personal information used against him.  Yes, it would appear he had ‘trust issues,’ as Tony Stark once observed, which went hand in hand with ‘a butt-load of low self-esteem’ and ‘a fuck-ton of insecurity’ – Midgardian standards of measurement Loki still could not comprehend.  “I shall consider it,” he conceded at last, keeping his expression neutral and his tone indifferent.  “Now, I must prepare supper.”

As he started to move through the doorway, Loki felt Erik catch his sleeve.  He stopped, looked down into the boy’s eyes again – _wise eyes_ , he noted.  _Too wise for one so young...he has seen far more than any child his age ever should._   Loki waited for Erik to say something, but he didn’t.  Instead, he wrapped his arms around his mother’s waist and hugged.  Loki felt the last of the tension leave his body.  He shifted Ragni and dropped a hand down to pet Erik’s mop of raven hair, a silent acknowledgement denoting affection and gratitude.  _Would I could go back in time to shield you, too, my first-born prince…you would have a proper happy childhood, one where you did not have to shoulder the mantle of adulthood in order to cope with your parent’s shortcomings._

Valki’s voice called out from the other side of the apartment.  “ _Mummaaaaaa!  I’m ready to make supperrrr!_ ”

Before Loki could respond, Erik released him, swinging out around the doorway to shout back to his little sister in an annoyed tone that sounded far too much like his mother.  “ _Hold your **horses** , he’ll be right **there**!  Gah!_ ”

Turning back, Erik looked up at Loki, and Loki looked down at Erik.  Neither said anything, but at the same time smiles tugged at their lips, their faces mirror reflections of one another.  Oh, how he _was_ his mother’s son…  Loki inclined his head.  “Care to help?” he asked.

The boy rolled his shoulders and showed his palms.  “It’s what I do best,” he drawled, and that time he sounded too much like Uncle Tony. 

_Hm._

“Go wash your hands,” Loki told him.  As he watched his son go, the God of Mischief had to smirk.  Yes, Erik _did_ help – in ways Loki wished he didn’t have to, but was grateful for him anyway.  _How unusual that a child should be so understanding of things beyond his years, that he should possess the compassion that escapes too many adults.  And yet, I know what I do hurts him._ He sighed deeply.  Looking at Ragni, he smiled.  “I make no promises,” he said softly, “but I shall endeavor to find a way to heal these wounds, old and deep as they may be…for your brother and sister…for your father....”  He touched the baby’s nose with his fingertip.  “And for you.”

Ragni took his own fingers out of his mouth and grabbed at his mother’s, giggling.  The sound rang in Loki’s ears, sweet and pure.  Loki latched onto it, wrapped it around his heart in the hopes it would keep him afloat in those times when the darkness threatened to pull him under.  ‘Think of the children,’ Tony had said.  Loki would always think of them, and he would fight for them, even as he fought against himself.  They were his hope and his strength and his anchor, and the salve for his troubled, tormented soul.  As long as he could keep them in his life, he would never give in completely to the evil that sometimes gnawed at his center.  His greatest fear was that he would drive them all away, one by one, until he had nothing left…and if that came to pass, he would be lost forever.

“ _Mommmmm!_ ” came the chorus of both Valki and Erik’s voices.  “ _We need you!”_

Closing his eyes, Loki smiled.  “And I will always need you,” he said with great reverence.  Cooing at Ragni, he left the nursery to join the rest of the family in the kitchen, spirits lifted once again…for now. 

 

-fin-


End file.
